


I'm Usually a Lover, Not a Fighter

by hologramophone



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pet fic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2013-02-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 03:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/580869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hologramophone/pseuds/hologramophone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“If I have to get a tetanus shot, you’re going straight to the pound,” he threatened.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Alpha whimpered and hid her eyes beneath her paws.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Derek sighed. “Fine, but no peanut butter for you for a week.” Alpha howled a little louder.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>Derek rolled his eyes.</i>
</p>
<p>In which Derek is jealous of his dog, and Stiles makes more friends than arrests.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This promises to be a little angstier than the last thing I wrote, but hopefully it has enough schmoop to appease everybody!

Derek woke up to hot morning breath in his face, a heavy weight scuffling over his chest.

Derek shoved at the offending object and turned to bury his face into the pillow, but the weight settled back over his shoulder and enthusiastically proceeded to clean out Derek’s ears with its tongue.

“Dammit, Alpha, go away and let me sleep,” Derek groaned, wiping dog slobber out of the shell of his ear. “I was stuck at the bar until three-thirty and it’s only-“ He cracked an eye open to peer at the clock. “-Seven-forty.”

The black ball of fur whined and leapt onto the floor with a loud _thud_. Just as Derek was on the brink of sleep again, he registered the telltale clicking of nails against hardwood floor. With a grumble, he turned over to see his dog pacing anxiously next to him.

“Really? You have to pee now?”

Alpha woofed softly, her ice-blue eyes turned up at him entreatingly.

Damn puppy eyes shouldn’t work when your puppy’s eight years old and weighs seventy-five pounds. But Derek found himself rolling out of bed and shrugging on a windbreaker over his bare shoulders, and unlocking the door while Alpha butted at his shins. She zipped on out ahead of him down the stairs of his apartment complex, skidding to a stop at the bottom and hopping impatiently.

“I’m coming, just don’t pee in the lobby or Harris will evict us,” Derek whispered urgently. “God knows he already wants to because you won’t stop growling at him. There are only so many places in the city that allow pets your size, you brute.”

Alpha had the decency to look guilty at that, as much as a dog can, and Derek gave her an indulgent pat before letting her out onto the scant patch of grass that Hunters Creek advertised as a front lawn. Alpha trotted over, sniffed at one spot, then trotted over to another and patiently sniffed again, despite how urgently she’d dragged Derek out there.

He sighed. It was going to be one of those mornings then. He took a seat on the front step to wait, thinking about how many more hours of sleep he could afford. The debacle at the bar last night had left him exhausted. Erica was a great employee and a could make a mean Long Island, but she knew all too well what effect her…physical appearance had on their drunk, male patrons. Patrons that got mad when she suddenly stopped flirting back, and then got grabby, and then got their shoulders almost dislocated. Boyd had had to hold her back while the guy shouted about lawsuits, and then the cops showed up and all their customers left while Derek was giving his statement.

Derek was going to have to sit Erica down for a talk about professional conduct. Again.

She’d probably blame it on her period, in graphic detail. Again. Derek shuddered.

He was half-asleep with his head propped on one hand, thinking about that time of the month, and monthly cycles, and bicycles, and there was someone riding their bicycle down the sidewalk, and look, a dog chasing the bicycle-

_Shit, Alpha_.

Derek snapped to full consciousness in an instant, almost tripping down the steps as he realized he was barefoot and barely dressed in the morning chill, running after a full-grown sled dog.

“Alpha! Get back here!” he hollered down the street. The black speck in the distance didn’t even glance back. Derek started to seriously regret not leashing his dog, though she hadn’t needed one since he first got her. Dr. Deaton had even gone as far as saying she had separation anxiety and trust issues, which wasn’t surprising given her history. Taking off after a stranger had certainly never happened before.

Derek was on the verge of panicking when he sprinted to an intersection and neither Alpha nor the bike where anywhere in sight. Then a sudden bark had him spinning around and sprinting north, past a block of closed shops until he found himself running towards the local park. Derek spotted the bike lying on its side at the top of the hill and scrambled up, chest heaving as he reached the top and looked down.

At the base of the hill, Alpha had the stranger pinned to the ground and was mauling the shrieking man’s face. Derek caught a glimpse of a gun and the glint of a badge.

Alpha was mauling the shrieking _cop’s_ face.

_Oh god_ , Derek thought. _I’m going to jail forever_.

He all but rolled down the hill, throwing himself towards his dog until he realized Alpha’s tail was wagging furiously…and that the cop’s shrieking was actually laughter. Derek angled his head around them and saw that Alpha was attacking the cop’s face with her tongue, and he rushed forward to grip her collar and drag her back.

His damn dog had the audacity to whine and paw at the air.

“God, officer, I’m so sorry I don’t know what got into my dog, are you all right?” Derek asked frantically, as the cop sat up and removed his sunglasses, wiping dog drool onto his uniform.

Then he actually giggled. “I’m totally fine! He was just being-“ the cop ducked down to look at Alpha’s underbelly. “She was just being friendly. No harm done,” he finished, grabbing hold of Alpha’s paws and shaking them.

Derek’s shins were going to bruise from where her tail smacked hard against them. “I, uh, I usually keep her on a leash, but she got loose. It won’t happen again,” he lied.

The cop looked at him over Alpha’s shoulder, his gaze flicking down and back up. “Your dog’s off the hook, but I’m not sure I shouldn’t arrest you for indecent exposure,” he said slowly.

Derek glanced down at his boxer briefs and unzipped jacket. Heat flared in his face, and he felt the sudden urge to cross his legs. He settled for pulling the windbreaker closed.

Thankfully, the cop’s attention had already turned back to Alpha. “What breed is she?” he asked.

“Alpha’s a malamute-husky mix.”

A giant grin split the cop’s face. “Alpha, eh?” She woofed in affirmation, making him laugh.

“More like Alfalfa,” the cop mused, running his fingers through the errant tuft of fur between her ears.

Now that the adrenaline and fear had worn off, Derek was starting to feel something else entirely, a bristling in his gut at the sight of his dog enamored with this rookie cop from the looks of his ride, when it had taken her weeks and months to warm up to him when he’d first brought her home.

“Hey, really, no harm done,” the cop said, snapping Derek out of his reverie. He hadn’t even noticed when the cop had gotten to his feet and run a subtle hand through his helmet hair, a tousled brown mess atop his head.

“What?”

“You, uh. You looked supremely pissed for a second, but seriously, I’m not hurt and you’re not in trouble so you don’t have to be mad at her,” the cop said in a rush.

Derek looked down to where Alpha was sitting obediently at his side, tongue lolling out innocently as if to corroborate the cop’s defense. The sly dog.

“And what’s your name? Spanky?” the cop chuckled at his own joke.

Derek glared in silence until his smile faltered. “It’s Derek.”

“Ah, well-“ Derek absolutely did not smirk as the cop shuffled his feet nervously. “-I’m Stiles. I mean, Officer Stilinski. But you can call me Stiles,” he amended, pointing a finger gun at Derek.

Derek resolutely ignored the gesture.

“Right, so- I’m technically on park patrol right now, so I’m gonna go…patrol the park now,” Officer…Stiles muttered, clipping his helmet back on and stalking back up the hill.

Before he could take more than two steps, Alpha ripped herself away from Derek’s side to butt her head against Stiles’ legs. He laughed again, leaning down to scratch at the white fur under Alpha’s snout.

“Be a good girl and go home with your daddy, okay? Maybe we’ll see each other again soon,” he added, glancing up at Derek with imploring brown eyes, large enough to rival Alpha's at her neediest.

She gave him one last lick across the face before trotting back. Derek watched as Stiles shakily got back on his bike, a purple bruise blooming across his calf from when Alpha must have knocked him off. Derek felt a wave of guilt – so he _had_ gotten hurt. He almost yelled to get Stiles’ attention, but the cop was already riding away, and Derek wasn’t even sure what he’d say.

So he turned to head home, when a jab of pain in his feet stopped him. Derek lifted then to see bits of gravel and dirt embedded into his soles, and he glared at Alpha.

“If I have to get a tetanus shot, you’re going straight to the pound,” he threatened.

Alpha whimpered and hid her eyes beneath her paws.

Derek sighed. “Fine, but no peanut butter for you for a week.” Alpha howled a little louder.

Derek rolled his eyes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's 4 am! if the end is not as coherent, I apologize. lol sigh.

There was only so much Derek could take.

Alpha refused to go on their normal jogging route anymore, instead dragging Derek (who brought out the leash following the bicycle incident) towards the park everyday as soon as he stepped outside for a run. For the past week, Derek had been getting more of a workout from restraining her than from actual exercise.

Which is why Derek stood in the kitchen staring at a pan of brownies with a Tupperware box in his hand.

They were the only thing Derek knew how to bake, a recipe from Laura that his customers swore by as a hangover cure, and also doubled as a great gesture of apology.

But he knew bribery of a law enforcement official was illegal, so Derek left the brownies on the kitchen counter and let a delighted Alpha lead him in the opposite direction of their usual route.

 _If dogs could skip_ , Derek thought.

The park was quiet for a weekday afternoon, only a few parents with kids in the playground area and a group of high school kids playing Frisbee on the soccer field. No cops on bikes anywhere in sight.

Derek leaned down and ruffled the hair between Alpha’s ears. “Sorry old girl, looks like he’s not here today,” he muttered, not entirely sorry to avoid confrontation.

Alpha dipped her head and whined, only for a second when her ears suddenly quirked and she darted off towards the lake, nearly yanking Derek’s arm out of its socket.

He only heard the voice over the splashing of the fountain as they got closer. “…Kid, what does the sign say?”

“Don’t feed the ducks.”

“Okay, good to know our literacy programs are working. You might want to work on the reading comprehension though- _hey, put the loaf down_!”

Derek ducked branches as Alpha led him through a copse of trees, coming to a stop at the edge where he saw Stiles facing down a ten year-old wielding a bag of sliced Wonder Bread.

There was a tense moment as the kid stared Stiles right in the eye, before he flicked a slice at the dozen ducks gathered in the water near him.

“Okay. Okay, I’ve got a couple pamphlets for the after-school programs at the community center in my bag here, there’s even a ceramics class- here, let me get you one-“ Stiles said, digging through the pack on the back of his bike.

The kid took that as an opportunity to rip the plastic bag open, propelling the remainder of the loaf at Stiles’ back and as a result, siccing an entire flock of ducks upon the distracted cop.

Stiles’ squawk echoed louder in the park than the noises of all the ducks combined.

At least he was still wearing his helmet.

Derek almost didn't see the kid turn tail and split, but Alpha's sharp bark drew his eyes away from Stiles' hysterical flailing just in time to see the kid barreling towards him. He stepped right out onto the trail, and let the kid run face-first into his stomach with a muffled _oof_.

"Where do you think you're going?" he growled.

The kid swallowed visibly, eyes widening as he took in Derek's glare and Alpha's grumbling snarl.

"N-nowhere," he stammered. "Just- home."

"And what's that in your hand?"

Wide eyes followed Derek's gaze to the torn plastic bag in the kid’s hand and he startled, hastily hiding it behind his back. "Nothing! Just my lunch!”

“Well, _lunch_ is all over that police officer’s uniform now, so why don’t you go apologize to him?” Derek crossed his arms and lowered his eyebrows even further.

The kid hesitated before leaping up in the air with a shriek. Alpha emerged from behind him, calmly trotting back to Derek’s side with the plastic bag between her teeth.

The boy’s face cracked. “I’m _sorry_ mister, it’s just my dad was gonna take me to the park today but now he has to work, and Jimmy gave me a noogie in class and everybody saw, and today just _sucks_ so I stole the bread from home and went to the park,” he blubbered, snot bubble dangling under his nose.

Derek didn’t deal with snot bubbles.

“Yeah, okay kid, uh- just go say sorry to the officer and go home. Tomorrow will suck less,” Derek tried. “Here’s uh…here’s a paper towel.”

The boy took the wadded-up ball from Derek with a mumbled thanks and blew his nose into it before handing it back. Derek cautiously grasped it between two fingers.

He tossed the wad in the nearest bin, and when he looked up, the kid was walking back towards Stiles. Derek was glad to see that the cop looked ruffled but otherwise fine (just a few frayed edges on his uniform) as he stood there glaring at a remaining duck. There was a hint of terror in his eyes when he caught sight of the kid, but it disappeared as he straightened out his uniform and leveled the boy with a glare.

“I’m sorry, officer,” Derek heard the kid mutter at the ground. Stiles’ glare melted off his face, replaced by a soft look of concern.

“What’s your name, bud?” he asked.

“Jack.”

“Hmm. Well I work with a guy named Jack _son_ and he likes to pick on me too-“

The boy curled farther in on himself.

“-But he’s not so bad! In fact, he’s teaching a reptile care class at the community center next week. I’m more of a dog guy myself, but to each his-“

“You mean like, snakes?” Jack interrupted, looking up from the ground.

Stiles grinned. “Yeah! And lizards, and turtles…but, I’m guessing you like snakes?”

Jack nodded enthusiastically.

“If you ask your parents to take you, here’s the pamphlet,” Stiles said, holding out the crumpled paper that he’d used to swat away waterfowl. “Actually, let me get you an unwrinkled one.”

Derek watched Stiles dig around for another sheet, before the kid took it and walked away smiling. Stiles grinned after him, before turning back and meeting Derek’s gaze.

“Derek!” he hollered, kicking up the kickstand and wheeling his bike towards them. “And Alpha!”

The dog went crazy, yanking on her leash until Derek was dragged to meet him halfway.

Stiles dropped to his knees and buried his fingers under her ears, as Alpha tried her best to bathe his face with her tongue.

Derek felt…neglected. Which was irrational, and he felt the tips of his ears heat, but then Stiles looked up and him and spoke. “I saw you stop Jack before he ran off. Thanks,” he smiled shyly.

Derek wished he had longer hair to hide his ears right then. “Yeah. The kid- Jack was just having a bad day.”

Stiles gave him an indecipherable look. “Well. Mine’s looking better already,” he replied, quirking a smile as he rose to his feet.

That brought him right up to eye-level, and Derek had to look down as Alpha wound herself around Stiles’ legs like a giant cat. He noticed that the bruise on Stiles’ shin had mostly faded, and suddenly remembered what he’d come there for.

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“The- your bruise. Alpha chased you, you fell,” Derek explained eloquently.

Stiles blinked owlishly. _How are his eyes that round_ , Derek thought. _It’s distracting. No wonder I can’t talk._

“You’re frowning again,” Stiles said. “It’s fine! It’s mostly gone now, just a little green. Kinda looks like an avocado, actually. It’s neat.”

Derek scoffed.

That seemed to make Stiles beam right back at him, and Derek needed to leave then before he did something stupid like drag the cop in by the lapels of his stupid uniform.

“We have to finish our run now,” he blurted.

Stiles’ smile dropped. “Oh. Okay. I guess I’ll see you guys later?”

Derek was already tugging on Alpha’s leash to leave, and he should have said no, should have stayed silent, but Derek clearly didn’t know what was best for him.

“We’ll be around.”

He almost missed Stiles’ smile come back in full-force.

 

* * *

Derek didn’t even last a week before he was clipping Alpha’s leash on for a walk to the park.

Surprisingly, she walked slowly enough that there was still slack in the leash, like she knew he’d surrendered and didn’t need to be forcibly dragged to the park any longer.

Didn’t need to be forcibly dragged to _Stiles_ any longer.

They found the park patrol officer in the middle of a gunfight between two groups of fourteen year-old boys, his uniform splattered with bright orange and green.

“Hey! California law, section 12556 states that it is illegal to expose or display an imitation firearm in public, much less fire one- _OW, where are your parents_?!” Stiles squawked, another orange bloom materializing on his shoulder.

Derek swiped his hand over his face.

Then he joined the fray.

Alpha darted towards Stiles as soon as he dropped the leash, and Derek took a quick headcount and made a note of their locations. Ten boys in total, one of which was wearing a gold armband. Birthday boy then. They were scattered all around the field, hidden behind upended picnic tables.

Derek made a beeline for the one he saw shoot Stiles last. With a _minimal_ hip-check, he wrenched the paintball gun from the kid and sent him sprawling in the grass. One orange pellet to the leg kept him there.

He looked up and saw Alpha dragging Stiles out of the warzone by the hem of his shorts. That took care of that, then. He rounded on the one who’d stepped out to watch the scene, hitting him squarely in the chest, and angled again to fire on the stray leg sticking out from behind a table. It withdrew with a shriek when the pellet impacted.

By then most of the kids realized a third party had infiltrated their ranks, sending a handful of them fleeing towards the trees on the edge of the field. Derek took three of them out before they made it. He picked off two more that were trying to climb a table for a sniping position, one still trying to sneak to the trees, and spared the one who tossed his gun out with a clatter from underneath a table.

Derek counted it up. Nine down or surrendered, and no sign of Birthday Boy.

He circled around the tables, aiming at the fallen in case they got any ideas, but every single one threw up his hands and cowered.

A sudden barrage of green paint splattered all over the picnic table inches from Derek’s head, and he spun around, gun raised.

Birthday Boy stood there mouth agape, before he dropped the weapon and got to his knees, linking his fingers behind his head.

These kids. Too much TV.

“Do you understand what ‘assault and battery on a police officer’ means?” Derek asked him.

Birthday Boy looked horrified. “But that guy wasn’t even a real cop! He rides a bike!”

Derek imagined that Stiles would respond with ‘ _Law enforcement comes in all shapes and sizes_ ’ or something similarly trite, but his own answer was, “He carries a gun.”

Fortunately, that seemed to leave Birthday Boy looking appropriately chastened.

Derek sighed. “Look, take your friends and your guns and go home. And I don’t care what your parents tell you, if a cop tells you that you can’t shoot paintball guns in public, you can’t shoot paintball guns in public.”

Birthday Boy glanced up. “Actually, he said we can’t expose or display them-“

Derek raised his gun.

“- _Okay_ , going!” He grabbed the weapon when Derek spun it around grip-first, and the rest of the kids leapt up at the same time and took off, glancing back intermittently as if they thought Derek might have a gun hidden behind his back.

After they were out of sight, Derek heard Alpha bark from behind him. He turned to see Stiles walking down the hill towards him, eyes wide and looking acutely shocked.

Derek’s stomach dropped. He’d just illegally assaulted ten minors with a projectile weapon while a police officer had an elevated view of the whole thing.

He was so going to jail this time.

“That. Was. _Awesome_!” Stiles shouted, gesticulating wildly.

What?

“Holy crap, with the obstacles, and the moving targets, and the wind speed- you’re freaking Jason Bourne, man! What’s your pistol accuracy, like ninety-eight percent?”

Derek had no idea who or what Stiles was talking about. But then there was a sudden glint in Stiles’ eye.

“Oh my god, you have to teach me. _Please_ , Derek, I almost failed the marksmanship test in the academy and that’s why they stuck me on park patrol. Really, I’m meant for greater things, there’s just the stupid firearms training and Argent doesn’t understand the concept of constructive criticism- anyway, I really, really could use your help.”

Derek brain immediately supplied him with images of being in close quarters with Stiles, arms wrapped around him as he steadied his aim…

“I’d rather not,” he answered.

Stiles looked dejected, but changed quickly to resolved as he stood up straighter and poked Derek in the chest. “I just saw you fire at least nine rounds from a spot marker in a public area. That’s more than enough to bring you in, buddy.”

Derek raised his eyebrows, but Stiles cut back in. “Geez, okay that’s horrible, I’m so sorry, you clearly saved me what am I even saying. It’s fine, don’t worry about it-“

“I’ll help you,” Derek blurted.

“No, that’s coercion, it’s blackmail, forget I said anything-“

“Stiles. I want to help you,” he said more slowly.

Stiles blinked. “Really?”

“Yes.”

And that smile was back, and Derek had a vague sense that he was signing himself up for something he could never get back out of, but he was oddly at peace with the idea.

“Great! I can’t bring civilians to the training center but there’s a shooting range near my house if that’s okay. There’s also an excellent Chinese bakery next door with the best red bean paste you will ever eat, I swear, or if you like pork sung buns, theirs are to die for…”

Yeah. Derek was never getting back out of this.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thanks for being patient! here's chapter 3 =)

**hola sensei! phoenix bakery wed. at 3?**

Derek snorted. He texted back **Okay** , and tucked his phone back into his pocket. They’d exchanged numbers in the aftermath of the paintball fight, while Stiles griped about his impending dry-cleaning bill before riding away on his bike, his backside looking like a Jackson Pollack work.

Not that Derek had stood there watching him leave again.

“Uh oh, the boss is smiling,” Erica said loudly, drying glasses behind the bar. “Either he’s been replaced by an actually-benevolent imposter or he plans to make us all work doubles tonight.”

Derek glared at her over the bar. “I just might,” he threatened. “Anyway, I might be a little late coming in Wednesday, so go ahead and open up without me.”

Then he went back to punching buttons on the calculator and totaling up last night’s earnings, until Derek realized the other sounds in the room had ceased. When he looked back up, Erica was staring at him with the towel hanging limply in her hand, Isaac’s mop had stopped mid-push, and even Boyd had put down the chairs he was stacking to watch him.

“What.”

“ _Are you seeing Deaton? Is Alpha sick? Is she okay?_ ” they asked in a rush, a trio of anxious looks directed at him.

Derek threw up a hand. “She’s fine, there’s nothing wrong. I just have…plans,” he finished stiffly.

“You. Plans,” Erica said dubiously.

Derek scowled at her. “Yes. I go out and do things sometimes, believe it or not.”

It was clear from the three eyebrows that shot up that they did _not_.

“I’m meeting a police officer at the shooting range to…he needs help with his technique,” he grumbled in defense.

Her grin turned dangerous.

“Is he cute?”

Derek felt a flare of possessiveness at the question, and it traveled to the tips of his ears when he found himself grappling for an appropriate response.

Erica’s bright peal of laughter cut off his panicked thoughts. “Oh sweetie, I just wanted to finally know what the boss’s type was.”

Derek’s face burned, the pencil he held creaking in his grip.

She sighed and smiled softly. “ _Please_ , Derek. I’ve noticed how much more obliging you are with the men that hit on you than the women. Didn’t I, boys?”

Boyd and Isaac muttered their assent, set down their work and pulled out their wallets. Derek spluttered in disbelief as Erica counted out twenty dollars between the two of them.

“Don’t worry, Boss. Boyd and I really have no interest in your love life,” Isaac assured him. “Erica’s probably going to want all the details though.”

“Mm, yes. Yes, she is,” Erica confirmed, picking up another glass.

Derek dropped his head on the bar with a _thunk_.

 

* * *

“You like peanut butter, don’t you, Alfalfa? Yes you do, _nom nom nom_ ,” Stiles cooed, kneeling with pieces of peanut butter bun in his hands as Alpha seemed conflicted between going after the sweet pastry or Stiles’ face. Her front legs were draped over his shoulders, making her have to crane her head back in order to nibble at Stiles’ hands, and Stiles laughed openly at her affection.

Derek stood there dumbly with Alpha’s leash in his hand, while his dog commanded all of Stiles’ attention.

Just as he considered handing Stiles the leash and telling him to _have her home by nine_ , the officer stood up and gave Alpha a last pat on the head. He’d worn a blue plaid shirt unbuttoned over a band t-shirt ( _The Police_ , ha) with jeans, and Derek found it a small relief from the park patrol getup that made Stiles look more like a delivery boy than an officer of the law.

Derek didn’t realize he was staring until Stiles shifted nervously and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’m gonna go in and order some more for us, so you and Alpha can pick a table out here, uh, is there anything you don’t eat?”

Derek shook his head, and watched as Stiles dashed into the store and started loading up a tray with baked goods from the display cases. Alpha’s tail smacked Derek in the shins when they saw him add extra peanut butter buns to the growing pile, and he leaned down to rumple her fur.

“We’re taking most of those home, just so you know. You’re going to get sick if you eat all those in one sitting,” he warned her.

Alpha huffed and prodded his face with her wet nose, and he tried to bat her away when he heard Stiles’ talking inside.

“No, Mr. and Mrs. Zhang, that’s super sweet of you but I couldn’t possibly-“

“No we insist, Officer Stiles. It’s the least we can do for all your help with our Calvin. He would be in jail now if it were not for your kindness,” an older voice said.

Derek peered through the open door. An elderly couple beamed at Stiles from behind the counter as Stiles rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. “Well, Calvin’s a good kid who just got caught up with the wrong people, all he needed was a push in the right direction. I heard he got accepted to UC Davis?”

“Yes! We are so proud of him, he even got a scholarship,” Mrs. Zhang said. “We have so much to thank you for, Officer Stiles, so please, enjoy the pastries with your, ah-“ Her eyes flicked to Derek in the doorway, before she leaned in and whispered something to Stiles.

Whatever she said made Stiles stiffen and shoot a wide-eyed glance at Derek.

“Ahem, yes, thank you so much Mr. and Mrs. Zhang, I’ll just take these outside now,” and then Stiles sprinted back to the door with his mountain of baked goods. Derek looked behind him, and the smugness on the little Chinese woman’s face reminded him so strongly of Erica that it unsettled him for a moment.

That was, until Stiles dragged them under the awning and dropped the overflowing tray down on a table.

“I don’t know how to say _bon appétit_ in Chinese, but uh, _wo de ming zi shi_ Stiles. Now dig in.”

He pointed out the egg custard tarts, the ham and cheese buns, the _Cha Siu Bao_ , the sesame balls, the pineapple buns that only looked like pineapples, the pineapple cakes that did have pineapple, and a dozen other tasty-looking baked goods on the tray.

Derek listened intently, taking bites of everything and finding it different from anything he’d eaten before, but delicious nonetheless. They plowed through most of it, Stiles pausing briefly to spout facts about Ming vases and the public transport system in Hong Kong.

“Why is it that you wanted to be a cop?” Derek finally asked, hand-feeding pieces of peanut butter bun to Alpha.

Stiles paused and smiled, a pineapple cake halfway to his mouth. “My dad. He’s the sheriff back in the town I grew up in, and I always wanted to kick ass and take names like he did. He taught me all about police work, and what he didn’t teach me I learned from eavesdropping on the police scanner and showing up at crime scenes.” He smirked. “Got me in a _lot_ of trouble as a teenager.”

Derek couldn’t help but ask. “Do you like it? Even though you only get to do, y’know…”

“Park patrol? Hells yes. It’s no picnic, pun intended, you’d be surprised how much shady business goes down in public parks. Just last week I busted a group of kids dealing pot down by the basketball courts.” Stiles looked a little abashed. “Of course, I just sent them to our police referral outreach program. We didn’t even have one until I petitioned for it, but our success rate is almost the highest in the state! I might be, um, abusing it a little bit though…since I’ve sort of made zero arrests ever.”

Derek blinked. “How long have you been on the force?”

Stiles looked a lot abashed now. “Almost a year?”

Before Derek could come up with a reply, Stiles continued frantically. “They’re good kids though! I can’t let them screw up their lives but I can’t bring myself to arrest them either,” he said miserably. “So that, along with barely passing the firearms test means I’m going to be stuck riding my bike until I retire. Even with a perfect score on the written exam.”

Derek raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You got a perfect score?”

“Hm?” Stiles picked at his pineapple cake, head propped up dejectedly in his hand. “Oh, yeah. You grow up around law enforcement, you learn a lot. My dad even had me take a practice detective’s exam when I was younger and I passed, not that it matters now. I’ll forever be the rookiest of all rookies.”

Stiles looked so crestfallen, it made Derek’s heart clench.

“I think you’re a good cop,” he said.

Stiles snorted. “You say that now. Wait ‘til you see me try to fire a gun.”

“No, I mean – you don’t only care about the people you’re protecting, but even the people you’re, uh, not arresting,” Derek said. “You make a difference in the community - that’s what law enforcement strives to do, right? And I’m guessing that the Zhangs would agree that you have.”

Stiles’ eyes were on him, looking awed, his mouth hanging open softly.

Derek coughed. “So yeah we’re going to teach you how to shoot, and you’re going to wow everybody and make detective someday,” he blurted, standing abruptly.

Stiles shut his mouth with a click. “Oh, ah, okay.” His hands flailed momentarily, before dumping the remaining baked goods into a paper bag. “Um, doggy bag for you, Alfalfa,” he said, and Alpha lifted her head from his lap inquisitively.

Stiles shoved the bag into Derek’s hands and went back into the store to return the tray. Derek heard him exchange goodbyes with the Zhangs, and then he came out holding a cardboard box tied up with string.

“I mentioned offhand last time I was here that I’m addicted to Reese’s cups, so they just baked me a dozen peanut butter cup cookies,” he said wonderingly.

Derek smiled at the watery glint in Stiles’ eyes, and they walked across the street to the shooting range. He started to tie Alpha up outside, but Stiles told him to bring her in.

The woman at the counter beamed when she saw Stiles, before her raising an assessing eyebrow at Derek. “Officer Stiles! Good to see you again, honey. And this is the friend you said you were bringing?” she asked with a smirk.

“I’ve told you before, Danielle, it’s just ‘Stiles’ when I’m out of uniform,” Stiles smiled back at her. “And yes, this is Derek, the incredible shot that I told you about.”

Derek squirmed uncomfortably under the woman’s lengthy once-over. “Looks like he’d be incredible at a lot of things,” she said lowly. Then she turned back to Stiles. “So! What’ll it be today, Stiles? Glock? Ruger? S&W?”

Stiles had stiffened again, Derek noted, the same way he’d done at the Chinese Bakery.

He was probably nervous about being at the gun range.

Yeah, that must have been it.

“Uh, guns, yes. We need to shoot guns, please,” Stiles spluttered.

Derek stepped forward and laid a hand on Stiles shoulder, making him jolt a little. “We’ll take a Glock 22 and a Sig 228, if you have those?” Derek asked for him.

Danielle nodded, smirked at Derek’s hand where it rested, and handed each of them a liability waiver before disappearing into the back room.

“Are you, or have you ever been a cop?” Stiles turned and narrowed his eyes at him.

Derek frowned back. “No…”

“You know an awful lot about guns for a civilian,” Stiles countered.

“My dad and uncle used to take me hunting, and I Googled what handguns were standard issue for law enforcement before I came,” Derek explained.

He smirked at the sheepish look on Stiles’ face. “Oh, yes. The internet.”

Danielle came back out with two plastic containers holding the guns and magazines, earmuffs, safety glasses, targets and ammunition. She agreed to watch Alpha until they were finished, but the dog huffed at being left until Danielle gave her a leftover pastry and she slunk off to a corner to eat it.

The range was empty when they carried their equipment in, the after-work crowd not in until later. Derek watched as Stiles set up at his booth, meticulously loading bullets into his magazine and sneaking glances at Derek, as if expecting criticism right off the bat. Derek simply nodded, and let Stiles clip the paper target up and hit the button to send it twenty feet downrange.

“Okay, let’s see what you’ve got,” Derek said, sliding his earmuffs on over his glasses.

Stiles grinned nervously and followed suit. He picked up the Glock, turned off the safety and spread his feet to stabilize his body. Derek noticed that he leaned farther forward than necessary to compensate for the kick, and that his lips were moving like he was reciting something when he fired off five rounds in quick succession, his whole body twitching with the sound of each shot. He flipped the safety back on and punched the button to bring the target back up-range.

“Well. You got a good head-shot in there,” Derek said consolingly. The red target was in the center of the torso, three rings around it marked _B, C,_ and _D_. Stiles had managed to get as close as the line between _C_ and _D._

 

“Yay, me,” Stiles mumbled sardonically from behind his hands. “If the zombies ever attack, I’ll know where I should aim.”

Derek swatted Stiles’ hands away from his face. “Your stance is all wrong. My turn - you watch my body,” he said.

As turned away he thought he heard a hysterical giggle before his earmuffs went on, but Stiles’ face was impassive when he glanced back.

Derek set up his own Sig and target, spread his feet shoulder-width and squared his hips, aimed on the count of _One_ , and squeezed the trigger on _Two_. The shock spread through his arms, and he took his time and focused on lining the sights on the next shot, and the next shot, and the next.

When he brought the target back, five holes sat in and on the edge of the red center. Stiles stared at him doe-eyed.

“Golly, mister. Teach me your ways,” he breathed.

Derek ignored the blush that prickled up his neck, and spent the next ten minutes instructing Stiles on his stance as he tried dry fire.

Stiles kept muttering as he aimed, repetitive statements that Derek realized were gun safety rules the academy had taught him, but it threw off his breathing and Derek had to tell him to stop.

“I can’t help it, I talk when I’m nervous,” Stiles lamented.

“You need to control your fear, Stiles. You jump every time the hammer releases, even with just dry fire.”

Stiles took a deep breath and aimed again, pursing his lips to keep from speaking.

“You’re leaning too far forward again. Lock your elbows and square your hips, and stand straighter,” Derek commanded.

“I’m trying! Look, my hips are so square they’re at right angles- _eep_.” Derek strode forward and tugged Stiles flush against his body.

“This is square, and this is how straight you should be standing,” he said exasperatedly over Stiles’ shoulder. “Raise your arms, and stop thinking so much.”

He wrapped his hands around Stiles’ on the gun. “On _One_ , line your sights. On _Two_ , squeeze the trigger. One, two. Simple as that.”

Derek waited for Stiles to nod or reply, but the body against his remained entirely still. Suddenly aware that he’d overstepped his boundaries, Derek dropped his hands and backed away, only for Stiles to stumble backwards into the space he’d occupied.

Derek caught his gun hand and righted him. “Let’s- let’s try live rounds again,” he mumbled, sending the target down range and taking his position behind Stiles with his earmuffs on.

Stiles slid the magazine into the Glock, raised the weapon and settled onto his feet as if seeking out something to lean his back against. There was a beat, and then the crack of the gun, another beat, and then Stiles fired again, and again, and Derek found himself mesmerized by the taut lines of Stiles’ back, the unwavering focus that had seemed to appear out of nowhere.

When he came to, Stiles had already turned around and was grinning ear-to-ear at him, the target brought back with five neat holes perforating the red center.

A laugh burst from Derek’s mouth. “Look at that, you’re a Jason Byrne too.”

Stiles’ smile softened into something that made Derek’s heart quicken, and he had to look away.

“Bourne,” Stiles murmured fondly. “Listen Derek, I-“ Derek flicked his eyes back up and Stiles hesitated. “-I just want to say thanks,” he finished.

Derek quelled the odd feeling of disappointment and smiled back. “Yeah, absolutely,” he said. “We should, uh – Alpha’s probably waiting for us, so-“

“Oh, right! We should pack up, let’s do that,” Stiles spun around, emptying the magazines and taking down the targets.

They brought the equipment back out to the front desk, as Derek caught Danielle turning away from the security feed with a dissatisfied frown.

“You boys done for today?” she asked. Alpha loped over and twined herself around their legs, Stiles having to steady himself on the desk.

“Yep, thanks Danielle!” he said. “And thanks for keeping an eye on Alfalfa here.”

They paid and said goodbye, and then Derek was facing Stiles on the sidewalk outside.

“Um-“

“So you have my number and everything-“

“I don’t know if you like movies-“

They both paused. Stiles grinned at Derek. “I do like movies.”

Derek felt his face heat and dragged Alpha closer by her leash. “Well, Alpha’s favorite is _Homeward Bound_ , so you could come over. I’d- she’d like that.”

Stiles held his gaze and stepped closer, leaning in until he was close enough to touch.

Then he knelt down and ruffled Alpha’s fur.

“You _would_ like that, wouldn’t you,” Stiles cooed at her. She tried to give his face a tongue-bath again.

Derek did not pout.

“You do have my number though. So, yeah, text me?” Stiles said when he stood back up.

Derek nodded. They said goodbye, Stiles giving an awkward half-wave before turning and power-walking away.

Alpha led him home, and they strolled down several streets that Derek was unfamiliar with. The houses in this area looked older and more expensive, and the cars parked on the street spoke to the affluence of the neighborhood.

Derek was distracted by a silver Porsche when Alpha hesitated in her path. He almost tripped over her, and saw that her attention had been diverted to a van marked _Hardy’s Pest Control_ parked on the curb in front of one of the houses. She bounded over to it and started sniffing at the tires and the sides, and started towards the back doors when the passenger side opened and a man leaned out.

“Get your fucking dog away from the van,” he snapped.

Derek reeled Alpha’s leash in and apologized, pulling her back onto the sidewalk. He glanced back to see the man climb back into the van, and another bearded man in the driver’s seat smoking. They didn’t speak, and the one who’d yelled at them kept looking impatiently towards the house.

It didn’t sit right with Derek, but there was nothing he could do with a gut feeling.

Alpha continued on, and Derek left the incident behind him by the time they made it home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bwahh i've never been to a gun range before so i apologize if that was all wrong - half of what took so long was me just poring through google trying to find info about the whole experience of shooting ranges. sigh.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry! this update is way overdue, but thank you to the many people who have sent encouraging messages ^^ you guys are fabulous.

Derek tore open each individually-wrapped Reese’s cup and laid them in even rows over the brownie batter. It took him longer than he expected, his nails too short to peel the black wrappers off the chocolate, trying to block Alpha from climbing up and sneaking a taste, and by the time all twelve cups were set in the pan and covered with the rest of the batter, the oven had been preheated for almost twenty minutes.

Derek practically threw the pan into the oven and grabbed his phone when it buzzed.

**be there in 15!**

_Crap_. The brownies wouldn’t be done for another thirty. Derek texted back an okay, and rushed into his bedroom to change out of his stained shirt. Alpha trotted in alongside him and leapt up on the bed, making herself comfortable as Derek dug through his dresser and pulled out a black t-shirt. He shucked off the one he was wearing, and started stuffing his arms through the sleeves when Alpha huffed from behind him. Derek glanced back to see her sitting up expectantly. She rumbled at him and tipped her head towards the closet, until he tossed the shirt aside and walked over to shuffle through the rack. He pulled out the gray oxford Laura gave him last Christmas and presented it to her. Alpha considered it for a moment, made a satisfied noise, and settled back down on her front paws.

“I should stop letting Laura watch you,” Derek grumbled, buttoning up the shirt. “She’s teaching you things, I swear.”

He ducked into the bathroom and scrubbed a hand through his hair, a puff of flour liberating itself. Figuring he looked passable, Derek went back to the kitchenette, threw the mixing bowls into the sink and stood over the oven where Alpha had taken up her post. He turned on the oven light and sat down next to her, throwing an arm over her shoulder to tug her closer. Alpha turned to look at him, licked him on the cheek and placed a comforting paw on his knee.

“Shut up, I’m not nervous,” Derek grumbled, wiping drool off his face.

Alpha snorted, and they watched the chocolate congeal until she abruptly scrabbled away towards the door. She barked excitedly when there was a knock a second later.

Derek tugged her back, and slid open the deadbolt to open the door.

Stiles stood on the other side in his uniform, holding a paper box and grinning widely at the sight of them. His gaze drifted appreciatively over Derek’s torso, and Derek felt himself flush.

“You look good in t-shirts, but wow,” Stiles said, gesturing at his outfit. Derek could practically feel Alpha preening against his shins, and he pushed her back behind him. He was a grown-ass man that nobody needed to know had been dressed by his _dog_.

“Thanks, uh. Come in.” Derek backed up for Stiles, who stepped in and ruffled Alpha’s head. He paused and sniffed the air.

“Is that…are those peanut butter brownies?” he asked Derek with wide eyes.

“Um, yeah Reese’s brownies, sorry there’s still ten more minutes until they’re done-“

“You made me _Reese’s brownies_?”

“Well, I just…I had them lying around and thought I’d put them in brownie mix-“

Stiles looked at the Target bag on the counter, and Derek very nearly launched himself at it to stuff it out of sight. “-There were just a few extra ingredients that I needed.”

Stiles stared at Derek, a soft look that made Derek’s ears heat, before it turned shy and Stiles looked down at the box in his hands.

“I brought doggie biscuits!” he exclaimed. “Um, for Alpha. Obviously. Sorry, I didn’t-“

“No, you didn’t have to bring anything,” Derek said, hands raised. He looked at Alpha who was sitting at Stiles’ feet, eyes trained on the box and tail thumping on the floor.

“She’s going to be a giant lump of fat and fur,” Derek sighed. “Not to mention us.”

“I don’t really think you’re in any jeopardy of that happening,” Stiles grinned at him. He popped open the box and pulled out a cookie for Alpha. “As for you, m’lady, I guess you’ll have to keep going to the park to see Stiles, won’t you? Work off all that puppy pudge?”

She made no indication that she knew Stiles had just called her fat, happily munching away on her cookie.

“So…how was your shift today?” Derek tried to smoothly segue into conversation.

Stiles stood up and stretched, his uniform pulling across his chest. Not that Derek noticed. “Ehh, it was okay. I was on desk duty today, so it was a lot of paperwork from Captain Argent and Jackson scowling at me for tapping my pens too loudly. It’s not my fault he can’t work with ambient noise. And then apparently it was my turn to make coffee, and Lydia said I put too much cream in hers, so Jackson scowled some _more_. It’s police station coffee – the stuff is supposed to be shitty, that’s how it is in all the cop dramas! At least Danny was gracious and finished his cup. He’s the only one at the station with the words ‘thank you’ in his vocabulary, I swear.”

The timer on the oven dinged, and Derek slipped on oven mitts and pulled the pan out to cool.

“ _Mmm_ , but that totally makes up for my morning,” Stiles said, leaning over Derek’s shoulder and inhaling deeply.

When he breathed out and sent a gust of warm air over Derek’s ear, Derek had to suppress a shudder by hastily reaching for a knife and cutting into the brownie.

“Uhh, shouldn’t that cool a little longer?” Stiles interrupted.

“No it’s ready,” Derek said, scooping a piece onto a plate and pushing it towards Stiles, and doing the same for himself. He lifted it to his mouth just as Stiles was speaking (“Wait, Derek, the peanut butter’s really hot-“) and promptly dropped it, shaking his seared fingers.

“Oh geez, Derek, here let me help you,” Stiles said hurriedly, leaping forward to grab his hand and stick it under the faucet. The cool water was a welcome relief, even as his pride continued to suffer.

Stiles opened his freezer and pulled out the ice tray. “Do you have a zip-loc bag?” he asked. Derek rummaged around the drawers for one, and Stiles took it from him and filled it, wrapping it up with a paper towel and putting it in Derek’s hand.

He must have still looked miserable, because Stiles grabbed his plate and insisted they go sit on the couch. Alpha trailed after them, and nosed at Derek’s iced hand with a whine when they were seated.

Stiles chuckled. “She’s the sweetest dog I’ve ever met.”

Derek grinned and scratched her ears with his good hand. Her tongue lolled out and she took a seat, head propped in his lap.

“How long have you had her?” Stiles asked.

Derek thought back to the first time he picked her up, a shivering bundle of skin and bones too scared to even fight. “She was six months old when we rescued her from the puppy mill,” he began. “She and her littermates had been neglected and abused, and her parents were put down after they couldn’t produce any more puppies. After the mill was shut down, the remaining puppies were sent to shelters. Alpha was the sickliest though, and I kept her thinking that she wasn’t going to make it past a month. She barely took any food for the first few weeks, and she wouldn’t let anyone touch her.”

The look on Stiles’ face when he glanced up was pure anguish, and he let out a choked sound, reaching for Alpha. She picked her head up off of Derek’s lap and trotted over, nuzzling into his hands with comforting noises. Stiles buried his face in her fur and clung on tightly, whispering g _ood girl_ and _nobody’s gonna hurt you ever again_ and _Derek and Stiles have got you now_.

Derek felt something seize in his chest as he watched them, that made him want to wrap his arms around them both and not let go, but he clenched his hands and stood up. “I’m gonna…I’m gonna put the DVD in now.”

Stiles detached himself from Alpha and nodded, and Derek pulled _Homeward Bound_ off the shelf and started the DVD player. The instant the menu music started playing, Alpha barked excitedly and pawed at Stiles’ leg, eyes glued to the screen.

Stiles laughed, bright and happy. “It’s her favorite, you say?”

Derek smiled and sat back down on the couch, leaving space between them, but then Alpha crawled up onto the couch and curled up across their laps, making them have to scoot closer to support her middle.

Stiles laughed at all of Michael J. Fox’s lines as Chance, cackling loudly when he ran from the turkey or when he ran into a tree, and Derek couldn’t help smiling at his unrestrained delight. He’d watched this movie countless times with Alpha, and Chance was her favorite – she woofed quietly every time he came onscreen. At one point Stiles remembered the brownie and took a bite out of it, turning to Derek with a rapturous look that made something heat low in his belly, until Stiles turned back to the plate and stuffed the entire thing in his mouth.

Derek laughed. _Barked_ a laugh, rather, and both Stiles and Alpha turned to look at him in surprise. He coughed and shrunk sheepishly into the couch until they turned their attention back to the movie.

When Sassy fell into the river, Alpha jumped down from the couch with a concerned whimper and went to sit nearer to the TV.

It was dark outside already – Stiles had come over after work, and Derek had taken the night off from the bar but he’d worked until three the night before, and Stiles was a warm presence by his side. Somewhere between Chance getting a face full of porcupine quills and the forest rangers taking the pets to the animal shelter, Derek felt himself slip into sleep, Alpha’s head a silhouette in front of the screen.

The first thing he felt when he woke up was the crick in his neck as he lifted his head off the couch. The DVD screensaver was playing, the glow of the logo the only thing lighting up the room. Alpha was snuffling in her sleep at the foot of the coffee table, and when Derek looked down at his shoulder, Stiles was asleep there, cheek pressed into his arm.

He stopped breathing for an instant, afraid to wake him. Stiles looked so young in his sleep, so _lovely_ , his face relaxed and dark eyelashes swept out over his cheeks. His mouth was parted, and Derek could hear the sound of his breath going in and out. Derek was struck with the desire to feel it, and with the impulsiveness of just-waking, he brought a thumb up to Stiles’ face and swept it across his bottom lip. He felt the warm air ghosting over his fingertip and the softness of his mouth, when suddenly Stiles stirred.

He nuzzled into Derek’s shoulder and blinked open his eyes.

For an instant, Derek froze. Just as he dropped his hand to pull away, Stiles made a needy noise and leaned up to press his lips against Derek’s.

The shock of it left him stunned for a moment, but his hand went to cup the back of Stiles’ head instinctively. Stiles sighed at the pressure, and Derek caught up enough to take advantage of it, angling his head to kiss him open-mouthed and deep. Stiles’ lips were even softer than he’d felt with his fingers, and when he felt a hand rub against the grain of his stubble, Derek groaned and pulled Stiles closer by the waist. He’d only meant to draw him against him, but then Stiles set two hands on his chest and _pushed_ , sending him flopping onto the couch and then climbing over him. The look in his eye could only be called _lustful_ as he dove back towards Derek’s mouth.

Derek tucked his hands under Stiles’ undershirt, his uniform shirt having been set aside earlier, and felt the full-body shudder as he trailed his fingertips up Stiles’ sides. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away to tug the shirt off, when Alpha’s face suddenly appeared next to them with a pointed _woof_.

“ _Oh god_ ,” Stiles yelped, leaping off of Derek and landing on the floor with a thud.

Derek scrabbled up and looked over the edge of the couch. Stiles stared up at Alpha’s face as she checked him over, and deciding that he was fine, licked his forehead and stalked away into Derek’s bedroom.

He stared after her, when Stiles started giggling, and then full-out laughing on the floor.

“What,” Derek asked confusedly.

“Your dog just _cockblocked_ \- no, your dog just _parentally supervised_ us,” Stiles choked out between laughs.

Derek blinked at him. Actually, that was _exactly_ what just happened. He snorted, which made Stiles laugh even harder, until they were both cracking up in the middle of the living room.

When they finally calmed, and Stiles wiped the last tear from his eyes and stood up, Derek went to wrap up the pan of brownies and hand them to Stiles. He took them with a smile, tucking his uniform shirt back into his pants and walking to the door.

“Thanks for having me over,” he said quietly. “I really…I had a really great time.”

Derek suppressed the urge to touch the dimple in his smile. “Yeah, me too.”

They stared at one another for a silent moment.

“Um, I have to go out of town for the weekend for a bartending trade show, but I’ll call you when I’m back?”

Stiles looked surprised. “Oh! Yeah, that’s cool. Is Alpha going with you…or is she staying with someone?”

“I was going to call my sister tomorrow to come down and watch her-“

“I can!” Stiles interjected enthusiastically. “I mean, if that’s okay. I could totally watch her for the weekend. I don’t have any shifts scheduled.”

He looked so hopeful, and Laura was probably busy anyway, so. “If you don’t mind, yeah that would be great,” Derek grinned.

“Perfect! I’ll text you my address and you can drop her off whenever,” Stiles said, opening the door. With that, he pressed one last chaste kiss to Derek’s lips and slipped out. “Good night!”

Derek stood in the doorway for a long time before he finally shut and locked it. Despite how tired he was, it took him hours before he could stop thinking about the way Stiles felt above him enough to fall back asleep.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone gets a crush on Derek and Stiles thinks it's hilarious. Someone gets a crush on Stiles and Derek's not as amused.

"So, like, maybe I'll come see you sometime? You said your bar's called The Den? On Fourth?"  
  
Derek grabbed his duffel from the overhead compartment and tried to extract his arm from 13D's vice-grip. She'd spent the last two hours telling him all about herself, like how she was a psychology major at the local community college, and Derek hoped she wasn't actually legal and he wouldn't have to serve her if she showed up with a gaggle of her underage girlfriends.  
  
"Yeah, I'm running late to pick up my dog, so it was good to meet you but I've gotta go-"  
  
"You have a dog? What kind? I had a corgi growing up, his name was Hal-"  
  
Derek put on his best bartender smile and fought the urge to shove his way off the plane. "Sorry Katie, it's been a pleasure but I've really gotta run - bye."  
  
The man blocking the aisle finally moved forward, and Derek leapt into the space he'd occupied.  
  
"It's actually Kaylie! Bye, Derek! I'll see you soon!"  
  
Derek pursed his lips and shuffled out into the walkway when his phone buzzed. He pulled it out to see a text from Stiles.  
  
 **We're waiting in the baggage claim area! YEA CONVEYOR BELTS.**

Derek felt himself crack a real smile for the first time in days – he really hoped Stiles wasn’t riding the baggage carousel with his dog, but the mental image was still amusing.

Alpha barked excitedly before the escalator even reached the bottom. Stiles looked just as giddy to see him, and Derek felt something in his chest swell at the bright grin on Stiles’ face.

“How was the trade show?” Stiles asked, adjusting the tiger ears on his head.

Derek quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hot. Stuffy. Crowded. What did you two get up to?” he asked in response, glancing down at the zebra ears sitting behind Alpha’s real ones.

“We went to the zoo! Isn’t that right, Alfalfa?” Stiles reached down to scratch behind both sets of ears. Alpha barked in affirmation, nuzzling against his shins. “And we went to the farmer’s market and got some organic veggie dog treats for her – which, she’s not a fan of _yet_ , but we’ll get there, and we then played Frisbee with some of the park kids and kicked their little junior-high _asses_!” he finished, punctuating the last word with a fist-pump. Several people in the baggage claim area turned and gave him dirty looks until Stiles sheepishly lowered his hand.

“Sounds like you guys had a much better time than I did,” Derek said, stifling his laughter.

Stiles shrugged. “Well, it would’ve been even better with you there,” he said quietly.

The chuckle died in Derek’s throat. He looked from Stiles’ eyes to the soft pout of his lips, and felt the same urge to kiss him that he’d had a hundred times since their movie night.

Until he heard the shrill “ _Derek!_ ” from the escalators, that had him shoving frantically at Stiles and Alpha to get them towards the doors.

“Where’s your car, Stiles?” he asked over Stiles’ own giddy “Who’s _that_ , Derek? Did you _meet_ somebody?”

Derek dragged Stiles bodily to the car-park shuttle outside, and ignored Stiles’ continuous “Why are you so eager to get away, Derek? She’s cute! Maybe I want to meet her – you should let me go talk to her-“

“No,” Derek grumbled, climbing in and shoving a five at the shuttle driver to close the door and _drive_.

They peeled away from the curb, leaving Cady, Kathy, Carrie– _13D_ coughing through the exhaust, “ _Bye!_ _Your dog is super cute!_ ”

Stiles cackled all the way to the parking lot, got them into his Jeep, and cackled all the way home.

**

Despite being laughed at the entire car ride, Derek invited Stiles to come see him during his shift the following weekend.

The Den got a lot of regulars who liked the low-key atmosphere and the ample selection of beers on tap. The place was already filling up by nine, and Derek was busy behind the bar, dancing around Erica as they poured shots and opened bottles with an easy rhythm. He didn’t even notice that Stiles had wandered in until he slid onto a seat at the end of the bar, watching Derek with something like amused awe.

Derek placed a Newcastle on a coaster and slid it to his customer before walking over. Stiles grinned at him, though he fidgeted in his seat, tugging a little at his fitted blue button-up and jeans. Derek smirked, before training his face to look impassive. “What can I get you?”

“Um, I’ll just have a rum and coke,” he answered.

“Can I see some ID?” Derek asked. Stiles gawked at him, before his expression flickered to an affronted one, and when Stiles reached for his wallet with a glare Derek burst out laughing.

He turned around to go mix his drink, and stopped abruptly at the manic grin on Erica’s face as she stared at him. She hadn’t even stopped pouring the beer in her hand, emptying it with a flourish and a perfect foam head as she leveled him with a predatory gaze. It was, quite frankly, terrifying. Derek looked around for Isaac or Boyd, only to find them engaged in some sort of conversation with only their eyes, glancing at Stiles every few seconds. His entire staff was crazy, Derek swore.

He scooped ice into a glass and poured in the rum and coke, perfunctorily grabbing a napkin to set it on. Derek paused, and then quickly threw in a cherry and one of the little umbrellas Laura got him a box of that he refused to use.

Stiles perked up when he placed it in front of him. “On the house,” Derek said.

“Aw, thanks! And it’s all fancy too!” Stiles exclaimed, popping the cherry in his mouth and pulling off the stem. Derek swallowed.

“I, uh, I’d love to stay and talk but there’s-“ Derek pointed his thumb back at the row of customers.

“Oh yeah! Go do your job and don’t mind me, I’ll just be here nursing my _Cuba Libre_ ,” Stiles grinned, rolling the ‘r’ and sipping at his drink.

Derek huffed a laugh and went back to work. They were abnormally busy even for a Friday night, and Derek didn’t get a chance to catch another break before he noticed that Stiles had drained his drink and was sitting quietly sucking on ice cubes.

He made another rum and coke and brought it over. “Hey, you should’ve called me over here earlier.”

“Nah, you were super busy. It’s just awesome seeing you in your element,” Stiles said with a relaxed smile. “By the way, your coworkers keep staring at me. Is it the umbrella?” he asked, gesturing to the red circle tucked behind his ear. “Because seriously, your other bartender looks like she wants to eat me, and the other two keep orbiting around me without speaking.”

Derek swiped a hand over his face and spun around to glare at his staff, who all suddenly took intense interest in their duties. Satisfied that they’d stop freaking Stiles out, he went back to help Erica with orders.

Twenty minutes later, Derek cursed his god-awful luck when the door opened and a group of girls in skimpy outfits walked in, 13D in the lead. “Derek!” she squealed, running up to the bar. All the heads in the bar turned, some appreciatively, when she leaned farther forward than necessary to give him a hug. Derek high-fived one of her outstretched hands instead, and he could hear Stiles choking on his laughter all the way down the bar.

Derek smiled tightly. “Hey Callie, nice to see you. What’ll you have?” he asked.

“Kaylie, but you almost got it!” she corrected cheerily. “Jamie will have a Bud Light, Aimie wants an appletini, a vodka and cranberry for Carly, and I will have a Sex on the Beach,” she finished with a wink.

“ID’s, please?” Derek wished, prayed to every deity he could think of as they handed their cards over, but all four girls were over twenty-one.

He busied himself making their drinks, listening to them titter “ _Oh my god, that’s so hot”_ and “ _He totally likes you, Kaylie, just keep talking to him_ ”. Derek fought the urge to climb into the ice bin and shut the lid.

He heard Stiles cough loudly at the end of the bar, and when he turned to him, Stiles pantomimed smiling, pointing at his face and mouthing ‘ _Tell her she looks pretty!’_

Derek didn’t actually pout, but he mouthed back ‘ _Do I have to?’_ until Stiles nodded vigorously and rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign for money. ‘ _Tips!_ ’

Derek sighed and handed Kaylie her drink. “You…that’s a nice skirt,” he forced out.

She flushed and spun around. “Thanks! Do you think I look good in it?” she asked, jutting her hip out.

“…Do you girls want to start a tab?” Derek responded.

They stopped giggling and looked at him. “Uh, yeah sure, I guess,” Kaylie said, reaching into her purse.

Derek looked back down the bar to tell Stiles that he’d tried, only to see him engaged in conversation with the guy on the barstool next to him. The guy had pulled his seat closer, and when something he said made Stiles laugh, Derek noted that it was his open-mouthed, eye-clenching laugh, when he found something truly hilarious. The guy smiled back and reached up to twirl the umbrella behind Stiles’ ear, and Derek-

“Derek?” Kaylie waved her credit card at him. “You okay?”

He turned back to her. “Yeah, sorry,” he covered. “I’ll take those.”

He collected their cards and went to the computer, glancing down the bar to see the guy call Erica over. Stiles laughed and shook his head when the guy ordered something for him too, but the guy kept talking and nodded at Erica.

Derek went back to hand the girls their cards, interrupting their whispered conversation that “- _he’s probably just nervous because you look so hot._ ” Derek grit his teeth and looked around for another customer to serve.

They all had drinks in their hands. “So, Derek! How’s your dog? He’s totally adorable, by the way.”

Derek gave up on trying to look approachable. “She’s fine, thanks.”

Kaylie was undeterred. “Oh, it’s a _she_? That’s so cute! I bet she has an adorable name too-“

“ _Hey, what the hell?!_ ”

Derek flicked his head around to see the guy leaping up from his seat, Erica standing across the bar with a towel in hand.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, did I get that all over your pants?” she asked innocently, wiping ice cubes at him still.

Derek had never seen her spill a drink in all the time she’d worked there.

“It’s not _all_ on my pants,” he hissed. “I stood up fast enough, but seriously, you should be more careful.”

“It was an accident,” Stiles assured, grabbing a couple napkins and wiping down his seat for him.

“It really was,” Erica insisted. “I’ll remake it, on the house.”

The guy pursed his lips but sat back down. “Fine. Thank you, Stiles,” he said pointedly.

Derek turned back to get another guy a Coors, before Kaylie got his attention again and proceeded to talk his ear off about her cognitive psych class and the new bus system on campus. Derek nodded along, but his focus was on the end of the bar, where the guy kept brushing Stiles’ arm and leaning farther in. Stiles laughed occasionally, but not as openly as he did before.

The guy got close enough to whisper in Stiles’ ear, when his chair suddenly tipped backwards before righting itself with a hard thud. Isaac’s head popped up from behind him.

“Oh, sorry dude. I was just trying to clean up the spill,” he said, waving his mop around as proof.

“Are you serious?” the guy asked. “First she spills a drink on me and now you almost knock me off my chair. I could’ve cracked my head open!”

“I would’ve caught you,” Isaac shrugged.

“And the bouncer! He keeps glaring at me like I insulted his mother!” the guy continued. “The service here sucks – come on, Stiles, let’s get out of here.”

Derek looked at Stiles, who looked back at him. “Actually, I think I’m good here,” he answered.

The guy stared incredulously at him, before throwing up his hands. “Fine! Stay in this shithole for all I care,” he yelled, storming out the door.

All the bar patrons glanced at one another for a second, before the din resumed itself and Derek was back to taking orders and pouring drinks. He caught the eyes of each of his staff and grinned, and they looked pleased but humble, as if they’d fulfilled their duties in some unspoken mission.

When he found himself back at the end of the bar, Stiles laughed at him. “I wasn’t sure who you were going to kill first, the airport girl or Kyle.”

Derek shrugged. “Sorry if you were having a good time.”

“With Kyle? Eh, he was funny at first, but then he was kind of a jackass to your coworkers.”

Derek tried not to feel too happy about that, but he brought Stiles another coke (“Just coke, I’m good for the rest of the night.”) with a cherry and another umbrella, and brushed his thumb against Stiles’ when he took the glass.

He wandered back to the front with a grin, where Kaylie waited with a knowing look on her face. “Well Derek, it was really good to see you again but I think we’re headed out.” Derek closed their tabs, and she looked wistfully in Stiles’ direction before walking out with her girlfriends. “You guys have a great night!”

Derek blinked after her.

The other bar patrons trickled out gradually, and Derek or Erica kept refilling Stiles’ coke as he drooped further and further down.

By the time they finally closed, Stiles was curled up on the bar, umbrellas sticking out of his hair in every direction.

“You should take him home,” Erica insisted. “We’ll clear up here.”

“No, I’ll just call him a cab-“

“Seriously Derek, I didn’t ruin my perfect record so that you wouldn’t get some,” she glared.

Derek felt himself flush, and he went to shake Stiles gently awake.

“Mm, macramé,” he mumbled into Derek’s arm.

“Stiles, time to go home,” Derek chuckled.

Stiles sat up and glanced around sleepily. “Okay, bye coworkers. Go team.”

He plastered himself to Derek’s side, face buried in his shoulder, and let Derek lead him to the parking lot. The Jeep was there, but Derek didn’t trust Stiles to drive without falling asleep, so he stuffed Stiles in the Camaro and told him he’d bring him back for his car later.

Stiles just nodded, and Derek drove him to his apartment and watched Stiles climb out. He had his keys in hand and everything, when Stiles climbed back into the car and over the gearshift, planting a sleepy kiss on his mouth before getting back out.

“Good night, Derek!” he called out, eyes half-lidded. “Thanks for the invite. Maybe you can come see me at the station sometime.”

With that, he shut the door and hobbled off.

Derek watched him leave a trail of umbrellas all the way to his front door, before he finally started the car again and drove home.

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the film The Little Rascals (1994).
> 
> Feedback is most welcome in the comments, or at my [tumblr](http://hologramophone.tumblr.com). thanks for reading! <3


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